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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983466">Kindred Spirits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ohmorozovas'>ohmorozovas (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lance and the Spear [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cursed (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, F/M, First Conversation, First Meetings, a beginning, subtle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:42:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ohmorozovas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to do as Percival (Squirrel) has asked of him, Lancelot turns to face the Red Spear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Red Spear | Guinevere &amp; The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Red Spear | Guinevere/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot, Squirrel | Percival &amp; The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lance and the Spear [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kindred Spirits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First thing, Daya is not an og character she’s meant to be the woman who is with dof and Guinevere in that scene on the boat. I just didn’t catch her name, if any of you did please let me know. Second, I don’t believe their meeting will be like this at all tbh but it’s fun imagine and test how I feel their characters could react in this situation. Hope to hear all your thoughts!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>It all began with little Percival, or Sir as he demanded he is called, commanding that Lancelot should honor the code of the Fey Knights.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I was knighted by Gawain, the Green Knight. He spoke well of my great courage.” He spoke rather arrogantly. “</em>
  <strong>
    <em>A knight of the fey is one with the land, as enduring as the great river, and as true as Arawn's bow. We are born in the dawn to pass in the twilight…</em>
  </strong>
  <em> those are our vows. You will take those too once I deem you worthy, Lancelot.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Percival had taken to calling him Lancelot since the minute he learned of his true name. Lancelot didn’t have the heart to deny him that after all, he had put the boy through in their earlier encounters despite him feeling far too removed from the Lancelot that was. He had killed far too many Fey kind to ever feel like him again. At least he felt like he never could from where he stood. He could never repent enough for such sins. “Deem worthy of what?” He questioned the boy.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Of becoming a knight like me…” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Lancelot couldn’t help but chuckle, “Nobody would ever accept me as a knight.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Well of course not. Right now I assign you no title but squire.” He spoke again, this time as if he was talking to an idiot. “We have to teach you about Fey honor and true nobility. You have to always help your people and allies even if you feel uneasy. Never hesitate. Do that and you’ll make me proud and only then I will consider knighting you. Do you understand?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Lancelot just nodded, amused by the boy’s antics.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Good. Now be a good squire and teach me the best defense with a sword…” The boy had continued and convinced, or cornered was the better word for it, Lancelot into a small lesson in swordsmanship.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The boy declared that Lancelot must take to doing as he asked and only then he would be proud of him. And helping Percival was the only positive direction he had in years, so what could it hurt doing as the boy asked. Becoming the help and warrior he and Gawain had demanded, which is how he ended up approaching the tent of the Red Spear after an encounter with another group of Cumber’s raiders.</p><p> </p><p>“What brings you to my lodgings, <em>monk</em>?” She seems to tease in an effort to deflect, standing tall trying to scare him away. “A deep desire for death or...” she steps faking deep interest in him as she lets her eyes rake over him exaggeratedly, “or pleasure.” He doesn’t mind, he knows this is all an act. He was sure the moment he saw one of her people fall and his eyes couldn’t help but notice how every little wound inflicted onto one of the raiders seemed to hurt her. She just didn’t seem to be in the mood for outsiders like him.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I could help her, I trained with the church in urgent matters that go as far as to include a bit of healing, not a lot but enough to maybe help. And my Fey blood could help.” He tried reasoning with her.</p><p> </p><p>She seemed to process this over trying to formulate a decision, she looked at him as if she was trying to figure out how to solve an impossible problem as if just letting him try was something that would go against all her beliefs, and maybe it was. “...Okay, fine. Come this way.” She says trudging ahead, leading him past those stationed to protect her and deep inside her tent. At the bed lay her advisor, the woman’s curly hair surrounded her. Her light fading, giving the appearance of eternal sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He turns back to her and sees her eyes trained on her, looking as if she was going to fall ill at any moment. “You don’t have to be here.” At this, her eyes moved to him, brow furrowed and she looked to him warily.</p><p> </p><p>“I have to be here, she is my burden.” She responds he decides to leave it at that. And goes about his work, sitting at the edge of the cot. He hopes he’s making Percival proud. She then sits on the floor beside the feet of the cot to his left and leans her back to it. Silence falls between them.</p><p> </p><p>………………………………………………………………………………………………………</p><p> </p><p>Minutes seem to become hours and He does as best he can and she’ll live, but Daya will have a world of pain in the days that she should heal, it was an inevitability. The Red Spear sits in her same spot in the floor, looking to one side of the tent. She looked strong and fierce, but if he looked closer he could see that she too was tired and scared like the rest of their force against Cumber and the Church.</p><p> </p><p>She was so young and yet they relied on her lead for a great deal of strategy and warfare. She carried the weight of the world. And it seemed to many the actual woman was lost behind the great picture of a leader. He feels sorry for her. “you don’t have to you, you know?” He breaks the long silence between the two with the disturbance of his voice as Daya’s soft breathing never could. She looks up at him surprised and clearly confused as to what he means. “Carry her burden, I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding at understanding his point, she looks to him seriously, “I carry everyone’s burden. She is my people. They look to me always. I can never falter for their sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“But who thinks of you?” He can’t help but ask.</p><p> </p><p>“No one, not truly. They love me for what I am. But maybe they don’t ever think of who I am truly or try to understand me, outside of what I’ve done for them and what I will do for the love of them...” she admits slowly if not hesitantly. “I suppose it’s the burden of those chosen to lead.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds lonely.” He observes.</p><p> </p><p>“In some ways, it is. But no more lonely than being a Christian Fey monk, in a camp surrounded by people with hate for you.” She said, not unkindly he could tell. Just pointing out how he has his own difficult circumstances.</p><p> </p><p>There was truth in her statement for he was a sore sight amongst the Fey, none bothered to near him but Percival and he is at once also reminded of his own invisibility amongst the Red Paladins. They all had seen him yet none of them had ever tried to know him. Father Carden only ever sought to shape him but none here knows that truth. He nods and speaks introspectively, “perhaps that’s why I could see it so easily in you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps.” Is all she says.</p><p> </p><p>He begins to gather his things and lifting himself from the cot, sensing that this conversation is over and perhaps she wanted to dwell with her burden alone. But as he began to walk away a part of him stopped halfway to the entrance of the tent.</p><p> </p><p>“Who is the real you?” He questions as he can’t help it, he feels he’s almost close to grasping at something. Something he doesn’t understand, something new.</p><p> </p><p>“I –” she starts up, but he can already sense her trying to close up. To try so hard to become the imagined version of herself, it reminded him so much of himself.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not your people, you need not try to carry my burden. I can think of the real you if you wish. So long as you begin to think on the real me, I’m called Lancelot. Well, I used to be. But I think I want to be him again.” He argues before she begins to isolate herself, he doesn’t know who he’s doing this for her or himself. But he feels he must. Maybe if she can accept this and herself, he could too.</p><p> </p><p>At his honesty, she doesn’t make a move to deny the invitation to be open immediately. Her lips were left parted as if a small gate in her mind had opened. Her eyes staring at him, but he could not tell what exactly she saw. Before she closed them and purses them in one last but very weak effort to deny herself this, “but don’t I already carry your burden?”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice had sounded so small and it was very telling, in some ways he could tell that she already did. Maybe not in his mind or that of the Fey or Arthur. But she already did in her mind, the way an ally always should but never truly did before. He thought maybe he should give her this, perhaps he had pried too much into her private thoughts. And readied himself to walk away and give her some peace turning back in the direction of the entrance, but her voice stopped him before he could. “Guinevere...” She said and he turned to look at her, still at her place on the floor by the cot looking small and very human, “that’s my name.”</p><p> </p><p>He feels thankful that he found a kindred spirit in loneliness however surprising the company had been. And he feels himself let a bit of warmth in his heart, perhaps she too did the same. “Hello Guinevere...” he said softly, welcoming that something new and something light into his life, something kindred to his soul.</p>
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